


The warmest bed I've ever known (always leads to you)

by dearericbittle (dutchmoxie)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Banter, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Future Fic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, POV Stiles Stilinski, Sharing Body Heat, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:53:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dutchmoxie/pseuds/dearericbittle
Summary: So Stiles ended up in the lake chasing some kind of weird monster. And since it gets really fucking cold in middle of nowhere Oregon, someone is going to have to spoon him. It’s a good thing werewolves don’t get cold easily. And that the Alpha is basically a space heater.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 17
Kudos: 354
Collections: A Very Sterek Winter 2021





	The warmest bed I've ever known (always leads to you)

**Author's Note:**

> This fought me the whole way, even though Stiles was being particularly hilarious.   
> God, depression sucks. 
> 
> But it's done!

“Someone needs to spoon me right now,” Stiles hollers as his body is wracked with shivers. 

It is the middle of the night. It is January. It is fucking Oregon, for some reason, because apparently fighting monsters in Beacon Hills isn’t enough for their pack. No, apparently sometimes they have to take the fight out of state as well. 

Out of state and right into a freezing lake in the middle of January. 

“Get naked and spoon me,” Stiles is ready to bitch about this for all eternity. “Your stupid werewolf powers are actually useful for once and I know you’re not that fussy about the nudity thing, you horny bastards. At some point it’s just rubbing my single status in my face.”

Has he caught Boyd and Erica together upwards of five times by now? Absolutely, which is stupid because they’re werewolves and they should  _ know _ when he’s about to show up. Though, he has a feeling that they know and just don’t care. Because it’s not like he minds it that much, more that they’re being evil and taunting him about being single. 

Even now Erica is grinning at him. 

“I feel like this is a job for the Alpha,” Erica is warming Stiles’ freezing fingers, at least. 

Somewhere in the other room there are sounds of a struggle, and Stiles would normally at least try and get all up in everyone’s business about it. But he’s too busy trying not to freeze to death in bumfuck nowhere, Oregon. Not when he’s only twenty-two and supposedly has his whole life ahead of him - if the Hellmouth that is Beacon Hills doesn’t kill him soon. 

“No breaking Derek,” Stiles shouts in the direction of whatever drama is currently happening, “if you break him I have to buy him and I have no money. Broke college grad, remember?” 

Student loans are a fucking bitch. That is all. 

So Derek comes in, looking grumpy as always because resting murderface disease is something that is going to plague that guy for the rest of his hopefully long life. Boyd follows in his heels because he’s clearly the most put-together person in their pack and the one who is probably going to have to make Derek not be a self-sacrificing dick about this. Which, rude, because Stiles is a pleasure to have around. Especially in bed. 

He’s so lucky he’s effectively frozen solid enough not to get a boner at the thought of getting to show Derek how good Stiles can be in bed. 

“Don’t be a dick to him, okay?” Erica is being surprisingly genuine here. 

“When am I ever a dick to Derek?”

The snort that escapes from Derek is particularly delightful and Stiles is going to do everything in his power to make Derek make that sound again. Which is a completely normal feeling to have about someone, especially their - his? - Alpha. 

It is also a completely necessary distraction from the way that Erica’s pushing Stiles under a pile of musty blankets. Sure, this shitty cabin isn’t much, but at least there’s something resembling a bedroom with something resembling a bed - which is more like a cot that definitely shouldn’t be big enough to fit two grown men. 

And no matter what the bathroom walls say (thanks to a bitter college ex-boyfriend who was jealous of Stiles’ bigger and obviously also better dick, not that the two are always related), Stiles is fully grown. And Derek? Well, he is definitely fully-grown in all the non-dick ways, and Stiles would happily speculate about what’s going on in Derek’s pants if he wasn’t pretty sure that he will get to see it in the flesh (hehe,  _ flesh _ ) pretty damn soon. 

At least judging by the way that Derek already has his shirt off. 

“Do you want the full list?” Derek asks, mocking. “We seem to have all night.”

Stiles’ brain helpfully decides to start singing some Lionel Richie at him as he contemplates sharing a cramped cot with Derek Hale all night long (all night). With Derek at least partially naked because when karma decides to punch him in the face, she goes hard. 

“I’d mostly like to be spooned now,” Stiles deadpans. “Spoon me, sir. Spoon me hard.”

Erica is wheezing at this point, and it’s a nice distraction from the way that Derek’s face just goes carefully blank. This is either going to end in Stiles being the broken one or in Derek avoiding him for another week and a half until Stiles decides that he’s had enough of that weird martyr shit and shows up on Derek’s couch and doesn’t leave for at least thirty-six hours. 

Derek should know by now that he can’t actually avoid Stiles. 

“Get naked,” Derek may or may not be growling. 

He also may or may not be most of the way to getting naked himself, and yeah, technically Stiles knows that being naked helps with the sharing body heat thing - except it’s completely different to know something academically and to be a part of it himself. Can’t Derek just be the only naked one here? Stiles is only human and he’s pretty sure that his frozen, shriveled up body is going to be the thing that finally makes Derek decide that Stiles is not worth it. 

When Stiles could at least totally make it worth his while. 

“Have you been looking at my browser history?” Stiles just has to know. 

“Try to keep it down,” Boyd warns before dragging a still wheezing Erica along with him. 

Somehow Derek continues to not even look at Stiles even though Stiles is right fucking there, faced with six feet of glorious tanned nakedness and hoping that he’s still too frozen to drool visibly. He’s definitely drooling internally though, and making some mental adjustments for the next time he has some…  _ private _ time to think about this moment. 

“Get naked,” Derek orders again. 

“Would if I could,” Stiles grins his most charming grin at him. “No matter Catwoman’s hard work, my hands still don’t have much feeling in them. And seeing as I’m usually so graceful, I’m pretty sure that if I were to take my clothes off, I’d rip something. Or multiple things.”

Oh, that is definitely Derek’s ‘the Lord is testing me’ look - Stiles loves that one, even when it’s about him. Or especially when it’s about him. But that’s between Stiles and his browser history. 

“Please don’t rip my clothes off.”

Wow, now that is actually the opposite of what he wants to say to Derek, but he kind of needs these clothes in the morning. They weren’t intending to take quite this long, and so they have literally nothing but the clothes on their back and the keys to Derek’s car, about an hour’s walk away from here. Stiles is not going to do his walk of shame naked, thanks. 

Though, that would mean that he has shame, and well… Jury’s still out on that. 

“I’m sure he’ll be gentle,” Erica is apparently still enjoying the conversation. “This time.”

Good, because Stiles definitely doesn’t want only the gentle parts of Derek. This, now, right here, with Derek slowly pushing the soaked flannel off Stiles’ shoulders and onto the cabin floor - that’s terrifying enough. Contemplating about how it might be a regular thing if they both just learn to talk about their feelings instead of pining from a distance. 

Or maybe that’s just Stiles. Sometimes he swears that Derek feels the same, and then he pulls back again and avoids Stiles for the umpteenth time. And yeah, maybe he’s just scared, but Stiles is just tired. And cold. So fucking cold. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek is quick with his martyrdom this time. 

“Can you not?” Stiles is already over it. “If you’re nice to me while you’re taking my clothes off, I might swoon. And I have a feeling that won’t help with the freezing thing.”

Derek is quiet, then, as he pulls Stiles’ t-shirt over his head as well. Somehow that both does and doesn’t help, because at least his torso is no longer covered by something soaked in icy water - but also he’s left exposed. To the room at large and to Derek. 

Obviously that second thing is the more risky play here. 

“This isn’t how I thought you’d be taking my pants off.”

He’s tired of biting his tongue - as much as Stiles is capable of doing something like that. It’s been so long, and he gets that it would be a big deal, but he just wants to make sure that Derek knows that Stiles is still in it. That he’s still interested and unlikely to lose interest any time soon - or well, ever, because he’s a Stilinski and they love forever. 

And then… It was bad enough when Derek was just unzipping him. 

“Stiles,” Derek looks up at him and Stiles gulps. 

The nakedness is enough to deal with, but Derek being on his knees in front of Stiles as he pulls his soaked jeans down his legs… Well maybe it’s a lot like how Stiles envisioned Derek taking his clothes off if they ever got to that point. When they got to that point - Stiles had been pretty sure that there was going to be a ‘when’, at least at some point. 

Of course monster hunting is going to get in the way. 

“You can’t judge me for any physical response I might have when I’m no longer frozen solid,” Stiles warns, only to attempt a snicker at  _ solid _ . “It’s not like I haven’t been dreaming about this. I’m pretty sure there’s a page or two in my high school journal about it too.” 

Look, it’s not like Stiles kept track of everything, but as soon as the supernatural burst into his life he started keeping track of what was happening just in case his stupid memories and ideas would be of use later - it had turned into somewhat of a journal and Stiles has been meaning to cross out some of the less family-friendly parts of it. 

Or mostly just the parts that involved his awkward teenage boners, some of them about Derek. 

“Creepy,” Derek deadpans, and yeah, he has a point. 

“Says Lurky McLurker,” Stiles has to point that out too. “We’re both creeps. Or, we were.” 

Derek shrugs, not actually disagreeing. They’ve both done a lot of growing up since then - if something like this had happened when Stiles was still an immature teenager, it probably would have been a million times more awkward and also way more inappropriate. Right now Derek doesn’t have to worry about Stiles being young and innocent, or whatever. Though Derek still tends to worry about a lot of things - Stiles is pretty sure it’s the trauma talking. 

“So, are you gonna spoon me already? I promise to make it awkward.” 

Anything else would just be a straight-up lie, and they both know it. 

“Most people would say the complete opposite,” Derek remarks as Stiles’ underwear drops to the floor and Derek gets up. “Get in bed, Stiles. So you can get spooned.” 

That’s one hell of a face that Derek is making there and Stiles snickers before his body is wracked with shivers. Shit, that’s probably not good. He’s still so cold and so tired and Derek has just been a fun way to keep himself distracted from those feelings. 

“Yeah baby, spoon me all night long,” Stiles once again makes an ass out of himself. 

“Not if you’re going to talk all night,” Derek huffs. 

He still helps Stiles get on the cot, though, and then climbs in himself, getting between Stiles and the wall so he has a line of sight if someone decides to come in through the door. The musty blankets are wrapped around the both of them, and Stiles wonders if steam is coming off just from his freezing body hitting Derek’s overly warm one. 

That guy really is one hell of a free space heater. 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” Stiles grins even though Derek can’t really see it. “You know I have to distract you with my words so you don’t realize how much I’m enjoying this.” 

Because he is, even though slowly getting some feeling back into his frozen limbs feels less than excellent. Derek is wrapped around him and he’s warm and it is starting to feel like they’re in their own little bubble. The rest of the world can yeet itself into the sun for all he cares. 

Stiles is living his best life here. 

“I can smell that,” Derek has to point it out. 

“Rude,” Stiles definitely isn’t pouting. “Look, dude, I know we’re not talking about this, and I know you’re not ready, but… It’s not going away just because we’re not going for it, and you’re still right here and still really hot on multiple levels. My body may be frozen, but my heart definitely isn’t. And yes I totally just heard how cheesy that sounded.” 

His patience isn’t limitless, as Derek very well knows. And now that his teeth aren’t chattering quite as much anymore, that leaves him with room to start talking. Or, to keep talking. 

It’s not like he’s very good at shutting himself up. 

“Now?” Derek seems less than impressed, hot breath at Stiles’ neck. 

“What?” Stiles wiggles a bit to get more comfortable. 

To get more comfortable and to be a little evil, trying to find out if Derek is at all affected by having Stiles in his arms like this. Stiles doesn’t have a supernaturally skilled nose to tell him how Derek feels about all of this - he’s left with more crude measures, like rubbing himself up against the dick that he can definitely feel against his ass. 

“After all this time,  _ now _ is when you speak up?” 

“Well, you certainly weren’t doing it,” Stiles is just offended now. 

Why not speak up about it when they’re naked and sharing a bed? It’s bound to come up ( _ hehe _ ) at some point during the night, so Stiles is only getting a headstart on their long overdue discussion about their feelings. Because there are feelings. 

Stiles at least knows that much. 

“I was going to,” Derek whispers against Stiles’ skin. “I was going to talk to you. I was waiting for the right moment. Valentine’s Day?”

That’s still ages away - just a few weeks, but no one has ever been able to say that Stiles isn’t dramatic without triggering the werewolf lie detectors he’s still surrounded by. Also, why can’t they just finally get to it right the fuck now? They’re both naked already, and Stiles is being spooned - not quite aggressively, sadly - by all six feet of Derek and they don’t have to get it on, not with Boyd and Erica in the next room. But taking a step? Finally? 

“I don’t need the right moment,” Stiles turns around in Derek’s arms. “You idiot, I just need  _ a _ moment. And if that moment is the two of us naked in a cottage with Erica and Boyd right next door… Well I’m good with that. Maybe me still being a bit frozen is the only obstacle.”

It only takes Derek about half a second to understand the obvious hint and wrap his arms around Stiles properly, leaving Derek’s face buried in Stiles’ neck because of course he’s still going to do the sniffing thing. That idiot somehow still thinks Stiles smells good, even after spending a significant amount of time in gross lake water. 

“Better?” Derek thinks he still has to ask. 

“Much.”

Is Stiles disappointed that the sharing body heat thing didn’t turn porny? Sure. But this is kind of awesome too. 

“Now kiss,” Erica shouts from the next room. 

Stiles snickers against Derek’s warm skin and lets the heat seep into his bones. 


End file.
